the being
in the moment—
the movement
of the breath
on the face of the water;
the double-helixed ecstasy
and terror of no tomorrow,
the pure synchronic
collapse of infinity,
and the man
with no head left
smoldering on the alter;
no swirling fragment,
no rainbow-colored
shard of that fantastic incident—
in fact, no such trial
or encounter whatsoever—
ever truly mattered
nearly as much as
the story
to told about it later
